


For the Caged Bird Sings of Freedom

by dissatisfied_doodles



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 20:24:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10794132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dissatisfied_doodles/pseuds/dissatisfied_doodles
Summary: A series of short drabbles centered around my original character Ina'ean Rajmahel, a dalish elf turned circle mage and eventual maleficar, and her experiences in Thedas.An unfinished work atm, but might get fleshed out further depending on the response and the availability of inspiration and free time.Tags to be added as the story progresses.





	1. A Bird's Shadow

"I am greater than the maker,  
More evil than demons.  
The rich need me  
and if you eat me you'll die.  
What am I?"

Ina'ean smiles into the crease of the book she had been reading.

"You are ever so pious, Ser Aindreas" she replies with a laugh "the answer is Nothing".  
She can barely hear his laughter on the other side of the wall, but she presses her book shut with a snap, pleased with herself. Its of little consequence if she allows herself to be distracted, as the book was full of senseless drivel; a Shem more interested in orgies and imagined rituals than actual keeper magic.

"I have one for you" Ina'ean says after pressing the book's spine against her lips for a minute

  
"The part of the bird  
that is not in the sky,  
which can swim in the ocean  
and always stay dry.  
What is it?"

There's silence on the other side of the wall and for a time Ina'ean imagines a smile on a mouth she's never seen.  
She knows Ser Aindreas by the cadence of his steps, the Ferelden burr when he speaks and the thoughtful silences between.

"...A bird's shadow."

And she knows him by his annoying knack for solving her riddles, she thinks with a mulish purse of her lips.


	2. If I Cage the Wind, Would it Die?

"Could you have ever loved me?"

The depth of the question is at odds with their surroundings, Ina'ean pauses in her graceless packing to blink up at him a few times, seemingly to process the question or the suddenness in which it was asked.  
Ser Aindreas continues to stare at her with that maker forsworn sincerity in his eyes, face a ridiculous open book and damnit she can't _not_ answer him.  
Ina'ean stares down at her hands, loosely curled on her lap with a ring of hard-earned dirt caught below her nails.

She swallows heavily.

"I don't think..." She licks her too-dry-lips and forces herself to meet his eyes "...I don't think, with what our situation was then, that I could have".

She has only ever been sincere with Ser Aindreas, but Maker be damned... when she sees the honest hurt in his eyes it is akin to a blade between the ribs. Cold, churning guilt roils within her.

"And now?" Ser Aindreas asks, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

She closes her eyes and feels the keen edge of a sword pressed against her pulse, the cool taste of lyrium on her tongue. She remembers fingers -the same fingers that had carved her a halla for the simple reason that they reminded him of her- curled around the glowing phial of her blood.

"I don't know" is her broken response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks for reading my disjointed thoughts this far!  
> Feel free to comment whenever you like! I won't bite ;D


	3. Keep Me Rather In This Cage, and Feed Me Sparingly, If You Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some blood mention in this chapter, and violent handling. Just a warning before you read ahead!

Ina'ean wakes with all the good humour and cheer of a bereskarn. The blood on her temple has dried uncomfortably, pulling at her left eyelid and matting her hair. Her hands and feet have been bound -the former behind her back- and her muscles ache from days of hard travel and the uncomfortable position they have been held in for Maker knows how long.   
She dares to glance up and catches sight of the void-taken elf sitting on a stool across the room, dragging a stone noisily against the edge of a sword.  
It seems Ina'ean's efforts to be silent are pointless, as the elf's eyes flick upwards and meets her own. He sets the sword down with a crooked grin and pockets the rock.

"Well, I see you've finally-"

She hits him with a mind blast, sending him ass over tea kettle.

A long moment passes before the elf manages to flip himself into an upright position in a feat of acrobatic prowess Ina'ean would be jealous of if she was of a kinder disposition towards him. With a hand massaging his temple the elf begins to step closer.

"Really now-"

The next mind blasts sends him careening against the far wall.   
He recovers faster this time, and manages to grab his sword and angle it at her throat before she's able to send him flying.  
If looks could kill, the elf would have no need of a blade. His face is thunderous and his eyes narrowed, lips curled in a snarl.

"I would not try that again if I was you" he threatens, the tip of the blade emphasizing his point by drawing the thinnest line of blood.

Ina'ean stares back in defiance though she nods her head once in compliance. After a pause the elf takes a step back and with a loose swing, severs the rope binding her ankles. He then leans down and hoists Ina'ean up by the elbow and roughly draws her to the wall at her back, releasing his hold on her to pull the curtains aside just so-

She mind blasts him again.


	4. Being In Limits Is Never a Choice

It is like a bone that has been broken and healed improperly, crooked and crippled. Serviceable yet sundered.  
Ina'ean has never been more aware of this rift in her being than when looking upon her sister.  
Her sister.  
She had almost forgotten she'd ever had one. 

Her hair is longer than Ina'ean's own, though shorter than the style the circle mage had previously carried it in before cutting it. It falls loose and uneven around her shoulders, a rough knot pulled to the back of her head.  
Her face is marked with vallaslin in a golden hue that matches her eyes, the sweeping raven wings of Dirthamen proud and regal on her brow and cheekbones. Her clothing is economical, made with green fabrics resembling leaves, adorned in feathers, furs and bone. Her arms and legs are largely bare and she stands with a natural, nearly predatory grace that implies a casual familiarity with the wilderness few can ever achieve. She wears no shoes, Ina'ean notes, and wonders when she had capitulated the the circle's demands of proper footwear. She knows it used to bother her, to have her feet bound and pinched, denied the connection with the earth. A part of her breaks all the more to realize this one of a presumably many surrenders.  
Her sister's skin is darker than hers with a light smattering of freckles, virtue of many long years out in the sun. Her eyes are sharp and can't keep still any longer than she can (which is to say "not at all").  
And maker  
Is it odd to look upon someone who embodies all you could have been had you simply made one choice differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in case you were wondering what Ina'ean looks like: 
> 
>  
> 
> (as drawn by me)

**Author's Note:**

> Loving thanks to my friends and inspiration:   
> [MaryDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryDragon/pseuds/MaryDragon)  
> [Coffeeguru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeguru/pseuds/coffeeguru)  
> [Chanterie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanterie/pseuds/Chanterie)  
> [Aelie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelie/pseuds/aelie)  
> [Eisen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisen/pseuds/Eisen)  
> [Grimmcake](http://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmcake/pseuds/grimmcake)  
> [Therutherfordwife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/therutherfordwife/pseuds/therutherfordwife)
> 
> Definitely go out and check their works! They're all amazing as people and writers!!


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